Bits And Pieces
by Callie Ryan
Summary: A small collection of moments in the Kate/Rick relationship, the bits we know and the pieces we haven't seen yet.


Summary – May I present a small collection of moments in the Kate/Rick relationship, past, present and future. The bits we know and the pieces we haven't seen yet.

AN: - Prompt fic - Put your iPod on shuffle and use the first ten songs as inspiration.

AN II: This is my first Castle fic and, in fact, it's my first fic in any fandom for a _very_ long time. So I hope I'm not too rusty.

* * *

_**i. Never-ending Story, Limahl**_

_The End. _

He can't quite believe that it's over, but that final period is eloquent in its simplicity.

That period at the end of that fragment represented not only the grammatical finality of his endeavour, but on a larger scale, the end of what had become his favourite character. Sure, he could continue to write Nikki for twenty more books if he really wanted to, but she was done. He knew it as certainly as he'd known it with Derek. This time though he had made sure that Nikki got her happy ending. After all, she deserved it with everything he'd put her through over the last few years. And for him it was time to move on. The beginnings of a new hero were percolating, coalescing in his mind. Not that that meant he was finding it easy to let go of Detective Heat. In fact, it felt more like he was mourning her, like part of him had died with that period.

"At least you haven't killed her, Rick. I've still not quite forgiven you for killing Derek."

Castle looked up from his laptop at the interruption. Said interruption was casually leaning - watching, assessing - from the door jamb.

"I know, but I… well, I guess I'm going to miss her, is all."

Kate Beckett sauntered across the room to him with that sexy sway he adored in full motion.

"Surprisingly, I think I'll miss her too."

He felt her fingers trace across his shoulder as she came to stand behind him and although he could tell that she was reading over his shoulder, for once he didn't mind so much. He was more intrigued by her admission. Kate rarely had _anything_ good to say about Nikki. Sure, she polished his ego about his _writing_, but Nikki herself was far too close to home for Kate and she let him know it. A lot.

"And here I thought you'd be planning a party to celebrate."

"You know? So did I," she paused to drop a kiss to his cheek. "But now its here and you're finally done? It just feels like…"

"… An ending?" Rick supplied.

"Yeah."

"I know. That's why I may have been brooding… a little." His confession was met, not with the expected mocking or sarcasm, but rather with a small squeeze of her fingers against his chest before her thumbs hooked in the open neck of his collar. That small gesture comforted and allowed him to continue with his thoughts. "She brought us together, Kate. Saying goodbye to her feels more real somehow, more personal than it ever has before."

"And here was I thinking it was your inability to leave well enough alone and the innate desire you seem to have to cause trouble that brought us together… Oh, and let's not forget your astounding talent at annoying me…"

Ah! _There _was the mocking and the sarcasm he had been waiting for.

Swivelling in his desk chair, he turned to face her, taking her hands in his and smiling into her laughing eyes.

"Anybody would think you didn't love me…"

His eyebrow quirk was answered by the eye roll that he'd always loved to witness and provoke. Pulling her onto his lap and turning them both back to face the desk he dropped a kiss onto her lips, letting it linger, letting the taste of her calm and centre him.

"You do know it's not us that you're saying goodbye to, don't you?"

"Never, Detective Beckett. Never."

"Good, because I've only just got you house trained." She sassed, breaking his melancholy.

"Ha. Ha."

Rick felt her run her thumb across the gold band that rested on his finger. "My one and done, Rick."

He smiled into her eyes, loving the softness he saw there. Letting himself revel in the fact that it was a part of her that only he, and frequently Alexis, got to see.

As his screensaver flashed up, exactly at the moment 'SHOULD' flickered on the screen, he had an epiphany.

"All fiction comes to an end eventually, it's the nature of the beast. But us? Nikki might come to an end, but Kate, we're it, forever. Never-ending."

His eureka moment might have lasted longer had it not been for the undignified snort that his wife let out.

"Oh, please, could you be any more trite? And let's not start on the ridiculous cliché… you're supposed to write for a living for God's sakes!"

* * *

_**ii. She's So Lovely, Scouting For Girls**_.

He was overcome.

Speechless.

Astounded.

And those were three things that didn't happen to him often. Some would say they'd never witnessed the great Richard Castle at a complete loss. Others would say duh, of course they had. Others still would scoff and give a timed and dated inventory of those moments.

But right here and right now, he was in the grips of true, soul-melting amazement and it had happened precisely twice in Richard Castle's lifetime to date.

The first time was hearing Alexis's earliest angry-at-the-world scream right after being born.

The second time was seeing Kate Beckett walk down the aisle towards him.

And now, time three, was cradling the warm, tiny weight of his new daughter for the first time.

And just like with Alexis, he fell instantly and completely in love.

Castle-the-Littlest had his mouth and her mom's eyes and as he gently rubbed his nose against hers he realised that for a man gifted in crafting intricate and elegant prose, this precious little someone was far too lovely for mere words.

* * *

_**iii. Smile, Uncle Kracker.**_

They didn't know he was watching.

He was supposed to be holed up writing, no distractions, no procrastination, he'd promised them. The pinky kind. And everyone knew you never ever broke a pinky promise. But there was only such much even he could take before his imagination demanded a break. And so he'd ventured - stealthily - out of his office, intent on the kitchen, in the hope that brain-food might spark the beginnings of the next chapter. Instead he'd ended up simply stopping dead in his tracks in his doorway.

They weren't doing anything exceptional or out of the ordinary. They were sitting, both curled up on opposite ends of the couch, a perfect mirror of each other – save the height and the hair of course – and they were just talking. Laughing really… about something he was sure he had no business knowing about.

But the two most important women in his life were sat talking, laughing and smiling, animated and comfortable, with one looking like the teenager she was and the other looking more relaxed and _at home_ than he had ever seen her before.

She'd resisted this at first, the becoming more involved in his family; the becoming _part_ of his family. But she couldn't deny his logic. She couldn't just take _him_, he was a package deal and while he knew right away that she would be a perfect fit, her insecurities mean that she hadn't see it as quickly and that led to frustrations on both sides.

And yet there she was looking for all the world like she belonged.

Maybe it was because she did.

And she finally, _finally,_ might know that.

He leaned silently against the door jamb, content to watch and he smiled.

* * *

_**iv. Unintended, Muse**_

He was a writer and if he said so himself, he was a pretty decent one.

So he knew all about taking advantage of the unintended, the unplanned and unexpected. The end result of something that started out as a fluke of luck or an instinctive free-for-all that ended up leading to something great… something special.

He wished he could say this was one of those unintended moments of inspiration, but no.

Standing there on the sidewalk, surrounded by flashing lights, he watched her sashay away from him, with a roll of her hips that would probably be considered illegal in several states, and he just _knew_ that he couldn't let her go so easily. A brand new female lead character was already more than half-formed in his mind, a result of the last few days' convergence of imagination and reality that excited the too long stagnant waters of his talent.

Something deep inside him, a part of him that had barely tickled his consciousness for such a long, _long, _time… something as yet unfocussed and entirely unidentified knew that he had to make damn sure Kate Beckett didn't walk away without him knowing her better.

That this was more than just a new character, this was about _him._

So it was with full planning and complete premeditation that Rick Castle turned away and pulled out his phone and waited for the voice he needed.

"Hey, Big-Cheese, it's Rick Castle... Yeah, I'm good... Listen, I need a favour..."

* * *

_**v. Take A Bow, Glee Cast**_

He was a showman.

Everybody said so. He even believed it himself – most of the time anyway. And it wasn't as if it was difficult to give his public the image that it wanted - to play the role, to smile and be that debonair playboy, that Peter Pan of the macabre that his audience expected.

He was a natural-born charmer who had inherited enough of his mother's talent to pull it all off successfully.

It wasn't that he couldn't be serious, or focussed; he could be both of those things when necessary, but he'd been a showman for so long, it was his default position.

But here and now, he'd never been so glad of his ability to project a facade. He watched her, a smile of pure happiness still lighting her face... a vestige of her kiss with Demming, and he knew he was about to play an Oscar worthy performance.

_'Castle, what are you still doing here?'_

_'Oh, I'm just about to leave myself. Good job closing the case.'_

_'Yeah, we make a good team.'_

_'Yeah.'_

Bravo, Sir, take a bow.

* * *

_**vi. Lullaby On A Stormy Night - Vienna Teng**_.

"Dad?"

Rick brought his attention away from the raindrops he'd been half-watching track down his office window, realising for the first time that it had grown dark outside.

Fitting.

"Hey, sweetie, I thought you went to bed?"

"I did. But I could hear you thinking from my room." Her classic deadpan delivery combined with a sniff that might have been cute on her at any other time only made him grimace. He watched as her inherited smirk made a showing before she crossed the room and folded herself into one of his leather chairs. He knew an intervention when he saw one. Especially when that intervention came in the shape of the person he knew best in the whole world. And heaven help him if he didn't love her a little bit more for trying tonight.

"I'm just... "

"...brooding?"

"Yeah."

"I figured." He looked over at his not-so-little girl and wished he could make his voice playful. Make his shoulders straighten and make his heart lighten. Just for her. Just to make that little worry line he could see between her eyebrows disappear. But he knew, and he suspected that she did too; there was no point in trying.

"You have to tell her, Dad."

"I know."

"She has a right to know."

"I know."

"She _has_ to know and you have to be the one to tell her."

"I know."

Rick felt the last remnants of stamina leave his body as he fell into the chair opposite his daughter, his eyes involuntarily falling to the floor, making him to miss her initial movement. Before he knew it she had risen and gracefully moved to sit gently in his lap and snuggle into his chest. It was an event he'd missed for a lot of years now, little girls outgrow their father's knee; it was an immutable law of the universe. He knew that, he'd expected it, yet it hadn't hurt any the less when it had finally stopped happening. But right then and there, with her warmth wrapping itself around his aching heart, she gave him a solace and comfort he so desperately needed tonight.

"It'll be ok, Daddy."

Rick felt his eyes glisten and could only tighten his arms around his daughter as the sound of the rain on the glass lulled them both into wishing for the impossible.

Into wishing that his baby girl might be right because the only thing he could hear in his mind was _'Castle, you touch my mom's case and we're through…'_

_

* * *

_

_**vii. Stars, Les Miserables**_

"Come outside, Kate, please!"

Rick wanted to sound manly and authoritative, but as usual, Kate Beckett had reduced him to whining and pleading. Ryan and Esposito would revoke his man card for damn sure if they _ever_ heard him.

"Rick, I'm warm and I've _finally_ got the sand out of the places that sand has no business being..." she caught the twinkle and the smirk he wasn't fast enough to hide, "...and you can just stop that train of thought right now, sweet-cheeks."

He mock sighed at her. "Well, if you're going to suck all the fun right out of it..."

"If by sucking the fun out of it you mean preferring to stay indoors, curled on the couch with a good book - not yours, by the way - warm and dry and sand-free, as opposed to walking outside, in the dark and the cold, were there is an overabundance of sand? Then yes, consider this being me sucking the fun right out of whatever scheme you have going."

Rick watched as she picked her glass of wine back up and snuggled impossibly deeper into his couch cushions, while refocusing on the 'not-his' book.

Okay, if that was the way she wanted to play it, he could play.

It was time to bring out the big guns. And Rick had several of those in his Kate Beckett arsenal. Which was a good job considering how frequently he discovered he needed them now they were dating.

"The puppy dog eyes won't work this time, Castle."

Damn. Strike one.

"And neither will the dimples, Kitten."

Double damn. And_ Kitten_? Strike two - and a half - for the 'kitten'.

Fine, time for the the _really_ big guns.

He took up his position.

"Really, Rick? Genuflection? With added hand wringing?"

He quirked his eyebrow in a way he was sure she would find endearing and eye roll or not, he knew he'd won. Because he'd found that when all else fails, abject grovelling is always a good idea.

Not prepared to drag out his humility a moment longer than absolutely necessary, Rick stood up and, ignoring the popping in his right knee, pulled his girlfriend out of the ridiculous depths of his couch. "Just come outside for one minute. Then, if you want to, you can come right back inside and curl up with your book - and really? _Cannell_? That could be considered treasonous in some circles you know..."

"Yeah, yeah... whatever. Just make this fast, Rick..."

"That's _so_ not what you were saying last night. Or this morning either..."

"Rick?"

"Yeah?" He caught her look. "Right, shutting up now."

"Good boy..."

He pulled a blanket from the back of the chair as he ushered her through the kitchen and onto the back porch. He couldn't help the rumble of laughter as she stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging open at the sight before her. This was why he wanted her here. Well, specifically, why he wanted her outside tonight. For the first time since they'd arrived they had a crystal clear night with a high moon reflecting off the calm surface of the Sound. It was a postcard perfect night in the Hamptons.

Dropping the blanket over her shoulders, he moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her relax into his chest as she took in the scene around her. He let her see it all, before whispering to her to look up. Her gasp was his reward as she gazed, awestruck at the sparkling firmament above them.

"Oh my God, Rick... just _look_ at them all!"

"Yeah, I know. These are what the lights of Manhattan blind you too."

"I feel like I could reach out and touch them... it's... it's extraordinary."

Rick followed her gaze as millions of twinkling diamonds winked back at them from an inky sky. "Yeah, this right here is one of my favourite places in the world. Even more so right now..." He let his arms tighten around her stomach as he dropped a kiss on her neck.

"Such a line, Castle, such a line."

He grinned as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Yeah, but it worked, right?"

"Not as much as you'd like, but I love you anyway..."

Rick felt her words hit him deep in his chest sending his entire body into some form of neurological shock. Flares of electricity danced across his synapses and thundered over every nerve as she traced a gentle pattern over his forearms. He knew that her eyes had never left the skyline and since his body was not responding to anything right then he only felt rather than saw her smile as she realised he'd _got it. _He'd known how he felt for a while, but rather than storming her gates with it, he had waited for her, waiting until she was ready to tell him what he already knew.

"What's the matter, Ricky, cat got your tongue?"

He felt her turn herself in his arms and suddenly all he could see was her. The playful glint in her eyes, nearly but not quite, masking the vulnerable shimmer she wasn't fast enough to hide.

And there, under the stars, with her firmly sheltered against him, he tightened his arms, pulling her impossibly closer and _finally _gave voice to his answering truth.

"I love you too, Kate Beckett. I love you too."

* * *

_**viii. Haven't Met You Yet, Michael Buble**_.

Rick was pacing.

Not the kind of pacing that was a result of a block in his writing. Neither was it the kind of pacing associated with paternal panic when Alexis was more than three minutes beyond her curfew. It wasn't even the kind of pacing that was associated with trying to work out the latest twist to the most recent Beckett-Flavoured murder mystery.

No, this was pacing born out of pure and uncomplicated frustration.

Back and forward over the same section of carpet he trod his path. Every time the elevator dinged he looked up, only to be disappointed once more. So after several strange looks from passers-by and a noticeable flattening of the carpet pile along his route, he pulled out his phone and dialled. He listened as he got the familiar voice mail... which only fuelled his irritation and thus caused him to throw caution to the metaphorical wind and rather than hanging up, Rick Castle began to talk.

"Beckett! I get that you are a strong, professional woman in a career where you make a real, honest to God difference and I get that said career doesn't always abide by pre-arranged meetings and timetables - but so help me if you are a no show for _this_ I'll... I'll..."

"You'll _what_, Castle?"

Rick almost dropped his cell as he noticed, for the first time, that the elevator doors were now open and in them stood the form of his partner. The partner, who at this moment in time, looked non-too-pleased with his previous - yet, in his opinion, justified - rants.

Now, being the perceptive and enlightened twenty-first century man that he professed to be, Rick could tell that she was non-too happy with his previous discourse and therefore a quick mea-culpa was required. It was either that or he'd come up close and personal with something that would necessitate the use of 'apples'.

And_ not_ in the fun way.

"I repeat. You'll _what_, Castle?"

"I'll... I'll…um… I'll just come and get your beautiful self and remind you... politely... that we have an appointment that neither one of us would like to miss..."

"Oh, nice save..."

Since Rick agreed that it had indeed been a nice save, he didn't belabour the point. Instead he stepped closer, dropped a kiss on her lips and guided her over to the noticeably amused receptionist.

"We have a one o'clock with Doctor Marsh..."

He didn't even try to keep the excitement out of his voice, even as Kate rolled her eyes at him, he still bounced on the balls of his feet.

"What? Kate, come on... you can't tell me you aren't a little excited yourself!"

"I'm excited. But as a grown up person in a public place, I'm _acting_ like a grown up person in a public place."

"Otherwise known as boring..."

He should've known that sotto voce was loud enough for her to hear and he cringed as her face changed. "I mean... not _boring..._ you're not... I'm just... it's just that... God, Kate. I just haven't met her yet and I so want to!"

He was saved from any further retribution as the receptionist _finally _called them in.

To say he bounced out of his chair would be a fair description. To also say that he fairly yanked Kate out of her chair and pretty much hauled her into the corridor would also be a fair description.

"It really is a good job you're pretty, Rick."

"I know, right?"

"It's also a good job I love you, because if this kid is going to be as much of a Castle as I think it is…"

"She." He didn't know how, and he didn't know why, but he just _knew_. She was a she.

"Rick, this is the first sonogram, don't you think it's a little premature to have decided on gender?"

"Hell, no! She wouldn't disappoint her daddy so soon, would you, sweet-pea?"

Since he was walking backwards while bent at the waist to talk to the only-just visible rounding on her belly, Rick Castle missed the soft, doting and wholly indulgent smile Kate sent his way.

He couldn't, however, possibly miss the pull and tug on his arm as she dragged him upright and down the remaining distance of the corridor.

"So, come on then, daddy, let's go meet _her_ already..."

* * *

_**ix. When You're Gone, Matchbox Twenty.**_

They don't fight often.

Sure, they banter and bicker and they'll argue over who left the milk on the counter or who should replace the tissues in the bathroom, but they very rarely _fight_ because when they _do_, well, it's not just a little bit devastating and it usually ends up with him watching her leave. He never leaves, at least not further than the next room. He's not now, nor has he ever been, the leaving kind. Even when things get harder than he ever thought he was strong enough to deal with. Not even to give her the space that she needs before she does actually make good on her threat and draw her gun and shoot him.

He doesn't leave.

Not unless she asks him to and only if he knows she truly means it.

So when they _do_ fight, it's never over small things that catalyse into something insane. No, when they do fight it's always, _always_ about the big stuff. Because each of their insecurities are too well camouflaged to be dented by the little stuff. The coffee stains and the laundry, the who is late for what and why. No, only the truly big stuff, the stuff that genuinely has the power to make or break them can reach those places within them both that they'd carefully walled off for so many years.

When she walks out, he knows she's not gone far, but still he sits, small and quiet… in the darkest space he can find. Not wanting anyone to see that needy part of him that is oh so afraid that she's not going to come back. Or even worse that she'll come back and really mean it when she asks him to go.

It's in those moments when he sits alone and scared and uncharacteristically silent that he knows that if she doesn't come back… well, it wouldn't be pretty.

But as he folds in on himself and waits for the reassurance of the sound of her key in the lock that he tells himself the truth that he knows above all others. Kate might leave, but she always comes back to him. And the one time she meant it when she asked; she took him back in the end.

Because as broken as he is when she's gone, the thing he knows now is that she is too, and that lets him breathe just a little easier… when she's gone.

* * *

_**x. – A Man Is in Love, The Waterboys.**_

She told him once that she liked that he was so big.

Of course, he'd almost ruined the moment because he had no control over the direction his brain, and his mouth, had gone. He'd ended up only narrowly avoiding the smack. So he'd summoned every ounce of his willpower and pulled himself together enough to actually listen to what she was saying.

She'd told him that she liked that he made her feel small. That he made her feel safe. And for a woman like Kate Beckett it was an admission that had totally floored him.

He doesn't think he really appreciated, until that moment, just how different their bodies were – not like that – because, dude, that was something he'd appreciated the hell out of the very second he'd met her.

But really, when it came right down to it, it was a shock to him that she felt almost fragile in his arms. That she let herself be.

The Kate Beckett that walked into the station house every day, who grilled criminals and played them like fiddles to get her confessions, the one who stood toe to toe with gang lords and judges alike to get what she wanted or needed, the one who projected a façade that was so damn big, so damn _strong_ that he never _ever_ expected that when she let herself free of her shackles and melted into him that she would feel anything other than her capable self.

And that was it, that first time he'd wrapped his arms around her, he knew.

He might love making her smile, pulling her pigtails and generally forcing her to stop and breathe every once in a while. But this? This was something entirely different.

He'd felt protective before, of course he had, he had been a dad for 16 years already so there was never a question about that deep seated instinct being inside of him.

But it was a different kind of protection. Alexis was then, and would forever be, his little girl. The little gooey mass of squirming arms and legs that had just seconds before taken her first breath and he'd known that he'd never, ever fail her. That he would protect her with everything he had and everything he was.

However this, with Kate wasn't about protecting something because it _needed _to be protected, it was about protecting something that wanted that safe place in the storm and chose that harbour time and time again. That was what made it special. Kate didn't need protecting from anything – and she'd kick the ass of anyone whoever suggested she might – but she _wanted _it.

He cherished those moments of comfort and solace and _stillness_ that he knew she had never expected to be able to find in _him_ of all people. But she – they – had and he gave it to her with the same unthinking and unwavering solidarity he always had when he loved someone.

So no matter what games he'd played with her – and himself – in the past, that first time she'd let him enclose her in his arms?

He knew.

He was in love.

_The End._


End file.
